Page 79 of Venomous Desires

He raised an eyebrow, “Did I?” feigning innocence as he took another leisurely drag from his cigar.

“You’re…playing with me.”

He tilted his head and turned his head in my direction. “If I were playing with you, you would’ve lost by now.” He flicked the ash from his cigar onto the car floor, the small, glowing embers scattering like tiny stars. “I am giving you a choice here, little bird. It’s either you let me bleed your cunt, or watch me make your family bleed.”

I shivered at his words and tried to push myself further into the window.

“There’s no need to rush, I am giving you time till we reach the penthouse to think it over if your cunt is worth your family’s blood.”

Chapter 27

The Predator

Her hand was bleeding. I’d never killed a policeman before, but I guess it was going to change.

The fear on my little bird’s face could only make my blood roar with excitement.

It had been a while since I had felt this way.

If it were someone else, I’d be ninety-nine percent sure I would’ve thrown her out of the window, for there was very little patience I could spend. Such was the state of my cock that had, once again, crossed the impulse control red line. Her tear-stained red face was more exciting than any woman I have ever fucked.

And the reason was nothing more than making her cum on my fingers unwillingly.

I stripped her of control she never had to begin with.

It was the first time I felt such blasphemous monotony shattered by the sight of someone’s tears. The way she pressed herself against the car window as if it could somehow save her from me was enticing beyond measure.

I could see her mind racing, trying to find a way out, but there was none.

I had given her a choice, but it was a choice rigged in my favour. What’s more thrilling than watching a person break, to see them surrender and choose exactly what I want them to? Like I said, I never force women, but I love hearing them beg. And my little bird was no exception.

She’d have to beg if she wanted to keep my interest and not divert it to her family.

I wasn’t a gentleman. And the only reason I thrust my fingers into her cunt was to dominate her. I wasn’t planning on letting her finish. I was a certified non-giver, and I preferred fucking with my cock than my fingers or mouth; it was safe to say she was the first woman I fingered. And it was horrifying how much I enjoyed it. The thrill only heightened when I felt her hymen with my fingers.

I was pretty convinced I never indulged with virgins, just because they were a hassle, a nuisance and screamers. I hated the screams; they were too much for my sensitive ears. But her…. I’d hear her scream for hours and hours, and still wouldn’t get enough.

And my fingers twitched.

It was interesting; she was evoking something primal inside me. Something I had never craved before her.

My vision blurred with the images of my little bird spread under me as blood smeared all over her thighs when I tore deep into her cunt.

I pulled out another cigar, hoping to keep my fingers busy and not wrap them around her throat.

Her body reminded me of one of the canvases in my father’s workshop, and I suddenly wanted to be an artist, painting my twisted desires onto her flesh. Every touch, every thrust would be a stroke of my masterpiece. She would be my masterpiece.

Her whimpers and gasps… oh, how much I’d love to hear them.

I sucked in the smoke like I’d suck her soul soon. My little bird was still clueless. This was what she was made for.

To be mine, to be broken and remade in my image.

She’d soon beg me to take her, to own her.

Her eyes flickered around, and I almost laughed.

She jerked as Kyle stopped the car, her face was red, like her swollen lips she mercilessly bit, and the blood I’d extort out of her virgin cunt. Even her neck turned redder, hotter, and the need to bleed them too intensified. I knew red would look marvellous on her.